Nothing but the Truth
by Jammeke
Summary: Years later, Arthur suspected he might as well have been wearing a blindfold the day Merlin first used magic in front of him—or, more accurately, the day Arthur first caught Merlin using magic in front of him.


**Title:** Nothing but the truth

**Rating:** K+

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.

**Summary:** Years later, Arthur suspected he might as well have been wearing a blindfold the day Merlin first used magic in front of him—or, more accurately, the day Arthur first _caught_ Merlin using magic in front of him.

**A/N:** It is my understanding that every author in this fandom has written at least one reveal story. This is not one of them, but it's close enough. I might get to that point eventually, though!

**Nothing but the truth**

Years later, Arthur suspected he might as well have been wearing a blindfold the day Merlin first used magic in front of him—or, more accurately, the day Arthur first _caught_ Merlin using magic in front of him. At the time, the prince had been unable to comprehend that his clumsy manservant—Merlin, of all people!—had defeated the red eyed monster that had thrown itself at Arthur for some unexplicable reason. It hadn't been the first magical creature to attack Arthur, nor had it been the last, but it was without a doubt the most memorable of them all—once Arthur realised just what triggered the thing to explode right in front of him, of course. Before that realisation, it had been a close tie between the five-legged sheep and the Questing Beast.

It seemed Arthur's mind and eyesight had been unwilling to work together on that particular day; one of them insisting Merlin had just thrown a fireball at a giant, scaly... something, the other telling him that was clearly impossible and _get out of here right now!_ Perhaps that last bit had been pure instinct. The prince didn't know. And he supposed it didn't really matter.

oOo

Arthur sprinted as fast as he could, but he might as well have been running backwards for all the good it was doing him. "Merlin!" He kept pushing himself to the best of his abilities, though he knew full well he would never reach his servant in time.

Merlin, the imbecile, didn't even seem to hear him. He just stared at the beast, one hand held out in front of him as if that would make the monster magically hold back or disappear altogether. Arthur cursed under his breath. Of all the places to get himself killed, Merlin had to do so right in front of Arthur. He ought to fire the boy for making Arthur do stupid things, like worrying about his inferiors—provided there would be something left for Arthur to send away once the animal was done with him, of course.

The beast opened its giant mouth and snarled viciously, preparing itself for the charge. Arthur screamed. The beast roared. Merlin... muttered something unintelligible. It was something utterly ridiculous, pure nonsense, and Arthur found himself halting in his steps and tilting his head to the side to listen more carefully. What was the idiot doing? What was he saying? Was he trying to pleasantly talk his way out of the situation? Had Gaius taught him the language of... big, ugly, smelling, oversized horse-like bears with the claws of a lion?

Whatever Merlin was doing, it seemed to work. Arthur felt his eyes widen as the beast got down on his haunches, leaned back and stared at Merlin for a few moments, studying its prey's form intently before slowly backing away from him.

Arthur's jaw dropped. "Merlin?" he managed, not sure what else to say. Was he supposed to ask something? Was he supposed to scream? Unable to decide which reaction would be most fruitful, Arthur could do nothing but stand there and stare at his servant like he'd grown a second head.

Naturally, the beast needed less time to get over the pacific interruption of its attack. It snapped its head to the side and focused its yellow eyes on Arthur, baring its teeth in a vicious snarl. Arthur staggered backwards. Uh–oh. Hadn't they been through this already?

Even as he drew his sword, Arthur knew for a certainty he was going to die. What good was a small piece of metal against such an oversized beast? The odds weren't in his favor and it wasn't like his sword had done him much good the first time the beast had thrown itself at him.

Merlin had lured the animal away from him then. Would he do so again? Could they keep drawing the monster's attention away from each other, and in so doing prevent it from aiming a direct blow at one of their heads? Arthur very much doubted it.

His servant seemed to disagree with his scrambled thoughts. "No!" he shouted. "It's me you want." And then he said something so utterly ridiculous Arthur's jaw dropped—except it couldn't, for it was still laying on the forest ground as a result of the last time Merlin had spoken.

What _on Earth_ was the boy doing?

"Shut up, Merlin," he said eventually, too late for his words to be effective. Oh well, it wasn't like the idiot ever listened to him anyway. His order would just be defied a little bit later, that was all his late reaction had bought him: Less time in this life to be ignored by his manservant.

It was something.

Merlin ignored him. Arthur wasn't even sure whether he'd heard him or not. He supposed it was neither here nor there. The beast had, and that was all that mattered. At the moment. He would have Merlin's head for this later. If he could beat the beast to it, that is.

The beast seemed torn now. It kept staring from Arthur to Merlin as if unable to decide which of them he wanted to devour first. Arthur lifted his sword, only to lower it when he realized he didn't want the monster to see Merlin as the easiest target.

Making a decision, the beast charged at Arthur. The prince stumbled backwards once more, his eyes widening inadvertently as the monster leaped through the air, its claws pointed directly at Arthur's chest. He'd always meant go out in a blaze of glory, not at the hand—_claw—_of a filthy animal.

Merlin was shouting again. Arthur closed his eyes, trying not to dwell on the fact that his servant's ridiculous words would be the last words he'd ever hear, and prepared himself for certain death. With a little bit of luck, it would be quick. With a little bit of luck, the beast would be so busy digesting his armor it would buy Merlin enough time to get away. If only the lunatic would stop mumbling in a language Arthur had never heard before...

Something hot grazed his cheek and for a moment, the crown prince of Camelot thought it was the beast's claw, clawing at him, drawing him open. He opened his mouth to scream—and closed it abruptly when he inhaled a mouthful of smoke. Coughing, he opened his eyes.

He could see nothing at first. Smoke hung thick in the air, especially so at the place where the beast had been moments before Arthur had closed his eyes. There was no sign of the monster; no indication that it was still alive. Had the animal caused the smoke to appear?

"M—mmer—in," he coughed, trying not to open his mouth too widely. "Wh—ere are... ye?"

No immediate answer.

"_Me_rlin!" Arthur tried again, panic rising in his chest. Had his servant set himself on fire? Was that what had happened? It would be _just_ like Merlin to—

"Arthur! Thank the gods!" a relieved voice said to his right.

Arthur snapped his head to the side. "Wh—_you_! How..." Sadly, the opportunity to scream at his servant was lost to him when he went into a coughing fit. "Y—you..."

"I don't think you should speak," Merlin said helpfully, a concerned frown on his face. "You'll be alright in a moment, I think. Here, let me." Before Arthur could stop him, Merlin grasped Arthur's hand and led him back to the trail, out of the smoke and into the clear forest air.

"How," Arthur began, pleased to note the smoke was starting to clear from his lungs. "How did you..."

"Know you should always close your mouth when smoke appears? Oh, I'm used to explosions. I live with Gaius," Merlin said, sounding altogether way too happy for a boy who'd just been about to be killed by an ugly monster.

"That's not what I'm talking about," Arthur said slowly. "How did you—wait, explosion?"

Merlin's smile vanished from his face. "Yes. No. Well, I can't be sure, of course. But I'm assuming the beast... sort of exploded?"

"Exploded?" Arthur repeated.

"Exploded," Merlin confirmed. Seeing Arthur's expression, he quickly continued. "Or, you know, disrupted into thin air. I don't know. The point is it's gone now." He sent the prince a small smile. "Yay?" he offered hopefully.

Arthur shook his head. "Monsters don't just _explode_, Merlin," he said, adding "nor do they disrupt into thin air" before Merlin got a chance to open his mouth. "Something happened here. Something... magical."

"Magical?" Merlin said uneasily.

"Yes," Arthur said, trying not to let his discomfort show. "Don't worry," he added, seeing his servant's worried expression. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Merlin stared at him.

"Don't give me that look, _someone_ has to clean my boots," Arthur exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air.

"Right," Merlin hastily agreed. "Shall we..." he gestured at the road up ahead, indicating now would be a good time to leave the forest and get back to the castle, even if that meant explaining to the King why they'd lost their horses on an innocent hunting trip _again_. How he managed to convey that message with just a few hand gestures and a smile that was so bright it made Arthur want to squeeze his eyes shut was beyond the prince.

Arthur was about to take the lead when something occurred to him. "Hang on," he said, jabbing a finger in Merlin's direction. "What were you on about earlier? You kept waving your hands around and chanting something in... absolute gibberish."

"I did?" Merlin asked. "I did," he repeated quickly, noting the look on Arthur's face. "Well, I was... you know..."

"You were..." Arthur said impatiently, folding his arms across his chest. He wanted nothing more than to return to the castle and get as far away from the place where magic had taken place right under their very noses as fast as possible, but he _had_ to know what Merlin had been up to.

"I was..." Merlin said, looking at the trees, the sky, the undergrowth, the path ahead of them—anywhere but Arthur, really, which was highly suspicious and extremely annoying.

"Well?" Arthur insisted.

"Praying," Merlin said suddenly, hastily clasping his hands in front of him.

Praying? Arthur raised an eyebrow. "To which god?" To his knowledge, gods only spoke English—and Latin, of course.

"Wh—bth," Merlin mumbled and Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. He was good at that. His father had taught him well; given him something to live up to. Of course, watching Gaius closely every now and then did wonders for his ability as well.

"Gods are all-knowing," Merlin said suddenly, grinning goofily.

"So..." Arthur drawled, "because they can understand you anyway, you thought you'd talk to them in gibberish?"

"Yes?" Merlin said. "No? All right, no, but I wanted my last thoughts to be private."

"Oh." Arthur could understand _that_. Honestly, he would never want Merlin to be the person to hear his last words; the thought of it was—not altogether unpleasant actually. Wait, where had the distinction between servant and... that other, much closer sort of thing, come from? When had he started thinking about Merlin as a... friend?

"Yeah."

It was silent for a while. They stared at each other, Arthur frowning, Merlin smiling weakly. Eventually, Arthur coughed. "Alright. Let's get out of here."

"Oh, yes," Merlin said, rubbing his hands. "Let's."

As they made their way back to Camelot, making slow progress, but progress nonetheless, Merlin prattled on about everything under the sun—everything except that one thing, that dangerous thing, that thing that made people go up in flames and lose their heads in front of their friends and neighbors. But Arthur was too busy coming up with sarcastic replies to notice—and perhaps, at the time, that was just as well.

oOo

"You," Arthur would say, years later, dressed in the finest robes the Kingdom had to offer, a gleaming crown resting on his head and more than one servant to shout at trailing behind him at all times, making sure everything was to their King's taste, "were terrible at lying."

And Merlin would smile, incline his head, look thoughtful for a moment, and then reply, "That may be so, Arthur, but you were _too good_ at it. Too good at deceit, too good at twisting the truth—too good at lying to yourself."

And of course, Arthur would not be able to deny he had been rather good at deceiving himself, and Merlin would grin and poke him in the side, and Arthur would tell him not to do that, knowing full well Merlin would do it again, knowing Merlin knew Merlin would do it again, knowing Merlin knew Arthur knew Merlin would do it again, and they would laugh at each other, bright smiles on their faces, and they wouldn't talk about it—not really, because magic was still a touchy subject; opinions drilled into the human soul don't just disappear, small parts will stay with you forever, no matter how much you try to fight them, make them disappear— but they would know, without speaking the words out loud, that everything would be okay, was okay and, honestly, had always been okay.

And that statement was nothing but the truth.

**~fin~**


End file.
